


daydreamer

by jijingka



Series: and they were roommates [7]
Category: Day6
Genre: Gen, Gender Neutral, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26104459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jijingka/pseuds/jijingka
Summary: you think about your roommate a lot.
Relationships: Park Jaehyung | Jae/Reader
Series: and they were roommates [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1167335
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	daydreamer

your daydreams of jae go like this:

in the early mornings when you’re still half asleep, the thought of jae—shuffling around the room, hair still damp, checking his phone while breakfast sizzles—is what motivates you to get up. but though you both mumble _‘good morning’_ and start your day, in the back of your mind you’re still dreaming: you think of him coming up to you before he leaves, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and hugging him; how he’d groan about wanting to go back to bed and you’d laugh, patting his back while he got 2 more seconds of sleep on your shoulder. and just before he left you’d hide your face in his neck and place a kiss there, just shy of his ear, and he’d smile—sleepy and warm and endeared.  
this, of course, is just what you think about while you space out eating the fried eggs he burned.

there are times when you’re doing the laundry that his sweater looks tempting to put on, how it would fit on you like a hug and remind you of him, his old tie dye hoodie from high school or crew neck from a university he doesn’t even go to. you both use the same laundry detergent but something about his clothes smells different, maybe his shampoo or cologne or the odd smell he says his friends’ recording studio always leaves him with—either way, it smells like him, and something about it is calming. you wonder what it would be like to wear it, even for a moment, then toss it in the washing machine with the rest of the laundry.

you think of him coming home to you cooking, thin arms sliding around your waist and a kiss on the cheek, the classic _“what’s cooking good looking?”_ or _“i missed you,”_ or _“i’m home.”_ he places his chin on your shoulder and leans in, _“smells good,”_ and thats how you know it’s a dream, your cooking never smells particularly good at all— but he brushes your hair behind your ears anyway or plays with the tie of your apron and peppers small kisses on the back of your neck.

you listen to recordings of jaes covers, or the songs that his band has been working on, to fall asleep. most of the songs you have of his on your phone are loud or fast paced, but you have a short playlist of his softer ones that you keep on repeat when you can’t seem to sleep at all. whenever he hums while he sweeps the floor with his headphones on, or you catch him singing something just for the sake of it with a guitar, you wonder if you could ask him to sing a lullaby for you—but since that’s embarrassing and you’re sure he’d laugh at you, you imagine it instead, earphones in as you try to sleep. his voice would be soft and raspy at the edges as he held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, and once he was sure you’d fallen asleep he’d place a kiss in your hair and mumble _‘goodnight.’_ (and if in reality you wake up to your earphones off, blanket tucked over you, and your phone charging on your desk, you don’t notice.)

sometimes you think of him feeding you strawberries and cream, and in those dreams there is no context— just a thumb swiping away whipped cream from your lip and open mouthed kisses, jae with tousled hair in an apron with flour on his cheek and a smile sweeter than sugar. he kisses the corner of your mouth and licks, tilts your chin again to have a bite of chocolate. _“here,”_ he says, reaching for marshmallows. _“tell me what you want, okay?”_ and your answer is always _you._

there are nights when you can almost feel him next to you. not across the room in his bed but closer still, living and breathing right in front of you, an arm under your chin and a hand wrapped under your shoulder blades, a quiet inhale, exhale on your cheek. as you hug your pillow closer you wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him everyday, pins and needles in your arms and the weight of your bodies both so sunken into the mattress you don’t know where you begin and he ends.

jae was built for slow dancing, you think. you imagine a masquerade ball, or a prom, or a field of wildflowers, it doesn’t matter—whatever it is fades into the background once you rest your head on his shoulder. his one hand taps a distant melody just above your hip while the other holds yours, and the world doesn’t feel so scary when you’re held securely in his arms and swaying. eventually you pull away and jae lifts the masquerade mask, or the plastic tiara, or the wreath of daisies, you forget— and kisses your forehead before spinning you around again, laughing.

in your best dreams, jae is always happy.


End file.
